Kindred: Private Investigator
by R-I-C-A-R-D
Summary: Twenty years after her Embrace, a Kindred is a successful private investigator. These are some of her cases. Set around 2023.
1. The Missing Girl

1. The Missing Girl

"Twenty years since the Embrace..." when I say those words out loud, it kinda stuns me. And yet, twenty years is only a fraction of the un-lifetime most Kindred experience. Those that aren't killed by hunters or fall prey to the schemes of other vampires.

There's an old saying that I think sums up my experiences in the last twenty years: Things change, things stay the same. The more things change, the more they stay the same. As always, the Camarilla seeks to keep the existence of vampires and other supernatural beings hidden from the eyes of mortals. Mostly, they do a good job. Occasionally, mortal hunters show up, looking to destroy the 'spawn of Satan.' They usually end up being shipped back to their masters in pieces. The ones who really piss us off, we turn and then kill. Show them how things are from our side of things. They tend not to appreciate the gesture, miserable wretches.

The Anarchs, a group of Kindred who pretty much oppose everything the Camarilla does on general principle have their bit of territory in town and defend it vigorously. Years ago, the Prince decided it wasn't worth the bloodshed to try to drive them out and instead offered them a deal - The Cam would stay out of their territory if the Anarchs would allow us to get on with the business of running things. Despite the occasional blow up now and then, the two groups tend to leave each other alone.

And of course, the Sabbat. You know in the movies how vampires are portrayed as mindless, blood-lusted monsters that will pretty much kill anything that moves? That's the Sabbat in a nutshell. Or, more succinctly, idiots. They want to enslave all humankind and destroy the Camarilla and Anarchs as well. You can never clear a city of them, either. They're prolific about siring. The young punk who tries to mug you tonight is tomorrow night's newest shovelhead. I take a certain joy in slaughtering them when I have the time.

Most nights, however, I'm busy running down leads and talking to my contacts. Snitches, mostly. After a few years of being the 'go to girl' for the Camarilla, I decided to go into business for myself. Greenfield and Associates Private Investigators. Little bit of a mouthful. Espcially when the phone rings dozens of times a night but I like it all the same.

Now the really funny part is - and this still makes me smile even after fifteen years in business - is that I'm actually legit. I took all sorts of night school classes and courses over the net relating to the private investigation industry. There's a genuine license in a frame hanging on the wall behind my desk. In my office. Yessir, Morgan Greenfield moves up in the world. Due to my loyal service to the Camarilla, I was set up with a whole floor of office space in the fifth floor of the tower complex owned by the Prince. Having the big man living a few dozen stories up doesn't bother me anymore. Much, anyway.

I don't like to boast, but over the years, I've managed to get the streets wired pretty tight. Not nearly as tightly as the Nosferatu's intelligence network, don't get that idea, but tightly enough for my purposes. Puts my competition in the shade pretty handily. Of course they have the advantage of being able to work a case during the day. When I'm literally dead to the world. Which is where my Associates come in. A number of ghouls in service to the Camarilla and well-paid kine do a lot of work for me during the day. And when I need to, I trade favours with other Kindred, usually the Nosferatu for that crucial bit of intel that can break a case wide open.

A week ago, a woman walked into my office. She was the madam of an extremely exclusive and upmarket 'gentlemen's club.' The type of place where just being in the same room as one of the girls costs you about a grand. OK, maybe I exaggerate a touch but not by much. The madam's name was Larissa Sinclaire. And for a wonder, she wasn't a fellow Kindred. Mortal, exceedingly beautiful and in her day, she must've had men literally begging to spend time in her bed. Even now, in her mid forties, she was still quite the stunner. She was dressed in a conservative grey business suit and wore a look that told me she was barely keeping herself together. I had a feeling about this one already. Likely, one of her girls had gone missing and the police had blown her off. What's one less call girl, right?

I stood up behind my desk as she walked into the office on black high heels. "Can I offer you a drink?" I asked.

"Whiskey, if you have it," Larissa replied with a husky voice. I could tell she'd been crying earlier. I pressed the intercom button on my desk, "Thomas, bring us in a bottle of whiskey and two glasses." Man, after years of doing somebody else's errands, it felt good to have somebody lower in the hierarchy doing mine.

Thomas, my ghoul soon entered carrying a silver tray with a bottle of well aged whiskey and glasses. Though Kindred can no longer stomach mortal food or drink, I poured myself some alcohol to maintain the illusion that I was normal woman. Hopefully, Ms Sinclaire wouldn't notice if I didn't actually drink any. Thomas turned silently away and glided out to the reception area.

For years I'd resisted the idea of cultivating a ghoul. To me, they always seemed like too much trouble. You had to feed them your blood on a monthly basis and that look of utter devotion they got in their eyes really creeped me out. Still, being able to function during the day and not have to worry about the constant struggle with the Beast Within did give them an advantage over Kindred. And Thomas was a sharp kid.

Larissa raised the whiskey glass to her red-painted lips and drank. As her throat swallowed, I could see the vein slowly pulsing in her neck and felt the old familiar hunger stirring. I'd ask Thomas to let me feed from him later. Of course, being his Master, I could just damn well take what I needed from him and some Kindred would do exactly that with their own servants but I always asked first. Call me old fashioned.

"So, what is it I can do for you?" I asked and eased back in my high-backed leather office chair. Larissa put down the glass on the desk and said, "One of my girls is missing. The police have been less than helpful," she frowned, a few lines appearing on her otherwise smooth forehead. She opened her purse and removed a studio shot and handed it to me. It was of a young redhead woman. "Her name is Lorelai Anders, works under the name of Christelle," she continued.

Even from the still image, I could see that the young woman was also exceedingly beautiful. Flawless porcelain skin with a dusting of freckles, deep jade green eyes and hair that fell to her shoulders. She looked quite a bit like Amy, the two hundred and something elder Toreador who'd shown me the way in the early years of my unlife, after my sire had been executed for Embracing me without approval.

"She didn't turn up for work last night. And usually she's very good about letting us know if she can't come in," Larissa said as I completed looking at the photo. I pictured Lorelai/Christelle lying on a slab in a morgue somewhere, stabbed repeatedly. I suppressed a shudder.

I took up my notebook and pen. "I need to ask you a few questions," I said. She nodded.

"How many regular clients does she have?"  
"Three. They all pay very well," she said.

"Is there any possibility that one of them may have done something to her?"

"That's always a possibility but we thoroughly vet every prospective client for exactly this reason. None of them have any history of violence towards women."  
I made a note to send around a Ventrue friend of mine to have a little chat with them all the same. A Ventrue would be able to use their Dominate ability to simply make a person tell what they knew. Very handy for me. "I'm going to need their names and addresses so I can have them interviewed."

"Of course. You understand, my clients value discretion above all else, so please be careful."  
"Oh, I understand discretion very well," I said and accepted the list of names and addresses from her. I pressed the intercom again. Thomas reappeared, that sulky emo look in his eyes. Kids these days. "Get Kelvin on the line and ask him to have a little chat with these gentlemen. We're looking for a missing girl. Ask him to find out what they know." Wordlessly he took the list and exited.

I turned back to my new client. "What about your other girls? Would they know of anything strange going on with Lorelai?"

Larissa took another drink, "Doubtful," she said. "Lorelai keeps to herself." I made a note to send around Thomas to talk to the girls. He had the kind of non-threatening appearance that wouldn't make them freak out. Hopefully. I glanced at digital clock on my desk. Midnight. Plenty of time to do some groundwork. I hashed out the terms of payment with my new client and bade her farewell.

I called Thomas back in for the third time in about twenty minutes. He hid the irritation well but I could feel a slight anger welling up within him. I smiled, revealing my fangs. "Don't worry, love, it'll all be worthwhile in the end."  
"Of course, Master," he said with a slight mocking tone. I pushed a piece of paper across the desk at him. "You'll have a bit of fun with this, I think. Go chat up these ladies of the night and see if you can get any info on our missing girl."  
"And after?" he asked, taking up the paper.

"After you come back and I may have a little something for you," I said. And I wasn't referring to sex either. Some Kindred, despite being rendered impotent by vampirism, insist on carrying on intimate physical affairs with mortals. And their blood-junkies even. Look, as much as I value Thomas and his abilities, I am not going to whore myself around for his gratification. With the amount of money he makes working for me, he could have his pick of girls.

As he turned to leave, I asked, "What'd Kelvin say?"

"He said he'd get right on it." Oh, that was going to cost me.

"And in return, he wants what?"

"Said he'd contact you should he require a favour in the future," he said and walked out.

I picked up the phone and began calling up my various contacts in the local medical clinics and hospitals. I faxed through copies of the girl's photograph and told them to call the office if they heard anything.


	2. The SoonToBeEx Husband

2. The Cheating Soon-To-Be-Ex Husband

With nothing else I could do for the time being, I turned my attention to another pending case. Forty-five year old Daniela O'Connell suspected her husband, Dominic Frost, five years her senior was sneaking around behind her back and having a string of one night stands with women, girls really, young enough to be his daughter. Men and their mid-life crises. She wanted to divorce his jail-bait chasing ass and had come to me help catch him in the act. I'd put a tail on him this last week, getting a feel for his routines. Old Frosty was a creature of habit. Every night after he finished work at the high-powered law firm where he was senior partner, he'd hit the town, trolling for pretty young things to take to a hotel and, well you can figure out the rest.

I had a plan in mind. A good old fashioned sting operation. Send in one of my people, dressed to kill, to approach him and really lay on the charm. All the while, another of my people would be filming the whole thing with a digital camera. I pulled out my mobile phone and speed dialled Avril who'd been tailing the guy all week. I could hear loud music and muted conversation in the background and she had to practically yell to make herself heard.

"Avril, where's our philanderer?"  
"We're at Crimson, he's at the bar but so far, he's not had any luck with the girls," Avril said loudly. Excellent. "Keep an eye on him. I'll call up Brandon and Libby and we'll fix him good."

Brandon was the guy I'd put in charge of the camera detail. Libby was going to be the bait. She'd been Embraced into the Toreador clan almost thirty years ago at the age of twenty-one but looked about three or four years younger. Which suited my purposes perfectly. I called up Brandon and instructed him to get over to Crimson, a Kindred-owned club in the CBD. Then I got Libby on the phone.

"Morgan, I'm kinda in the middle of something," she sounded distracted. I could hear what might have been gunfire in the distance.

"Is that shooting I hear?"  
"Yeah, my Sire sent me on a job. Things aren't going to plan. Whatever you need help with, my dance-card is full, sorry." and she clicked off.

A minor setback. Time for Plan B. I got up from my chair and went around to my private ensuite. I opened the small closet and removed the slinky red dress I'd bought for just such an occasion. Not really my style though. I've always preferred jeans, T-shirts and a leather jacket. Comfy and practical. Plus the jacket concealed the forty-five I kept holstered at the small of my back. The gun, by the way, is also legit. Nowadays I have a permit for every firearm I own. Well except for the Dragon's Breath. But good luck trying to get a permit for a sawn-off shotgun that spits bursts of white phosphorous instead of double-ought buck. I removed the weapon and holster and changed clothes.

I carefully applied makeup. Again, not my thing. And we Toreador are supposed to be all het up about appearances and things of beauty. Meh. The woman in the mirror was almost a different person. My alabaster skin contrasted with the raven hair that fell to my shoulders and the effect, I knew, was quite striking. The dress showed off my feminine charms to good advantage. I went back to the closet and removed a truly stunning diamond necklace and earrings. The whole ensemble, along with my vampiric Presence would mesmerise the poor stupid bastard and make him putty in my hands. I called up Daniela and told her the sting was about to go down. "Good, I want to be there and see the look on his face."  
I told her to meet us at a certain hotel that was also run by Kindred. We vamps own more real estate than you can imagine. Hell, if you pay rent, your landlord's probably one of us. Or the guy who owns your mortgage.

On the way through the reception area, I told Alice, one of the admin staff on the night shift that I was going out for a while.

"Dressed like that?" she asked.

"Sting operation," I replied.

"Ah," Alice answered and went back to her filing.

In the elevator on the way down to ground level, the hunger spiked again. I sighed. Supposedly, Kindred were able to go longer between feeds as they grew older but I still found myself fighting down the urge to feed. When I was younger, the urges would come almost nightly. After twenty years, I could go three, four nights without a fresh shot of blood. Provided I wasn't forced to use my Disciplines. "After we sting the guy, then we'll find a warm body, k?" The Beast seemed almost to pout but then the hunger fell dormant.

Once in the lobby, I moved at a fast walk towards the car park, heels clicking on the marble floor. The guard at the security desk nodded as I passed. Human but he was used to seeing people pop in and out at all hours of the night, so my reappearance dressed the way I was didn't elicit any undue reaction. "Have a nice night, Ms Greenfield," he said as I passed.

In the car park I arrowed towards my silver Audi. The big V8 engine roared into life as I twisted the key in the ignition and gunned the motor. Oil crisis, what oil crisis?

Crimson was maybe a twenty minute drive away. I hoped Frost wouldn't hook up with some teenager before I got hold of him. I kept to the speed limit as I drove; I didn't want to have to deal with a speeding ticket right now. Soon Crimson hove into view. The place hasn't changed much over there years - it's still a major drawcard among the city's bored rich young people. And the Kindred who fed upon them. I parked the Audi in a spot half a block up and walked back to the club. A few people were waiting to get inside but as I approached, the Brujah doorman nodded me through and unclipped the velvet rope. One of the girls in the queue didn't seem to like that. "Hey! I've been waiting to get inside for, like, ten minutes!"

I ignored her and went through the door. Then Trustfund Tammy opened her big stupid mouth again. "Hey, I'm talkin' to you, bitch!" I rolled my eyes as I turned back. I crossed my arms over my chest and eyed the girl. Five foot nothing and looked as though she weighed fifty kilos soaking wet. Me? I'm nearly six feet tall and even before the Embrace was blessed with an athletic physique. Now? If I so chose, I could snap the little girl's neck like a twig.

"Sweetheart, take some advice. Go home. Before you get hurt. Savvy?"

"Do you have any _idea _who I am?" she screeched. Her friends tried without success to calm her down. The Brujah left his post at the door to move them on. They went, the girl still screeching and yelling out idle threats.

Finally inside the club, the pounding dance music, and beating of hundreds of young, vibrant hearts washed over me. The Beast stirred again and my fangs slid out reflexively. I looked around the room, made eye contact with Brandon and then found Avril. She was at a table nearby nursing a cocktail. I made my way through the crowd, drawing several appreciative glances. So many possible blood donors but I had business to attend to first. Avril nodded as I arrived. "Nice outfit. Try not to lean too far forward though, or your girls are gonna make an unscheduled appearance."  
"Yeah, thanks," I said dryly. "Rough night?"  
"Nah, our boy hasn't moved from the bar since he got here. He's not having any luck picking up, either, poor dear," Avril said and sipped her drink. I burned some of my vitae and let my Presence Discipline wash out from me. Avril stiffened as the force of my personality hit her. She gasped softly then moaned in pleasure.

"Oh...Morgan. That is gooood," she sighed again. All around me, people were turning away from their partners to stare at me as I strolled among them. The Presence was exerting an almost magnetic attraction and as I arrived at the bar next to Dominic Frost, he practically fell off his seat with the force of my arrival. My client's soon to be ex husband wasn't bad looking, if you went in for older men. Though according to my official birth records, long since suppressed, he and I were almost the same age. He had carefully styled silver hair and ruddy features. His expensive suit didn't quite conceal the paunch he carried.

He looked me over as I approached and I could almost feel his slimy gaze crawling up and down me. Especially my breasts. The dress I had chosen was specially cut to show off my wares which I normally kept under wraps. I forced a big smile as I sat next to him. I leaned forward slightly, giving him an even better view. He gulped and I could hear his heart rate go up.

"Hi, honey," I said, hitting him with the full, seductive force of the Presence. He gulped harder. "Buy a girl a drink?" I asked.

"Uh...sure, sure!" he said, too loudly. I carefully glanced over my shoulder and saw, that yes, Brandon was indeed capturing footage of the whole thing. I turned back to Frost and stretched out my foot, 'accidentally' rubbing it along his leg. He almost jumped out of his chair.

"My name's..." I paused for a second. Candy? Nah, too obvious. Lisa? Too common. "...Angelique," I finished. Classy.

Frost put out a beefy hand covered with hair and with gold rings on the fingers. "Pleasure to meet you," he said.

"Oh, the pleasure's all mine," I purred. "Why don't you and I go somewhere a little more...private? I know just the place," I whispered. I slid off the leather barstool and held my hand out to him in invitation. _Come on, you cheating jerk, take the bait._ He put his hand in mine, engulfing it and let me lead him towards the door. I shot a glance at Brandon as we passed and he nodded in understanding. Avril got up from her table and went to join him.


	3. You're Nicked, Mate

3. You're Nicked, Mate

During the drive to the Hotel Clarendon where I'd arranged to meet Daniela O'Connell, Frosty kept pawing at my legs with his big, hairy hand. It took all the self control I possessed not to rip his hand off and jam it up his own ass. Somehow I managed to keep the car on the road _and _fake moans of pleasure as he worked on my leg. What did he think he was doing, anyway? Kneading bread dough? Could've been worse. He could have gone straight for the honey-pot. Though if he did that, my client would be able to save money on divorce proceedings, and just spring for a funeral.

As I pulled up in front of the hotel, Frost apparently decided he couldn't wait to get me on the bed and started pulling up my dress. The Beast snarled. I grabbed his hand and put a good deal of pressure on it. "No," I hissed. He blinked at me, surprised by the sudden change of mood. "I mean, why rush things? We have all night to...get to know each other," I finished and gently released him.

"Of course. Forgive me, it's just that rarely do have the honour of accompanying such a ravishing beauty as yourself."  
Yeah, I'll bet. Aloud I giggled girlishly as I got out of the car. This whole slut in a dress facade was making my teeth ache. I could feel my gum-line throbbing as the fangs trembled.

As we passed the front desk, the ghoul night manager eyed us knowingly. He'd been given the heads up earlier on and had set up a suite for me. I hit the button to summon the elevator and could actually feel the barely-restrained lust emanating from Frost. It made my skin crawl. The elevator doors shooshed open and as soon as we were inside with the doors closed, he made his move on me. He shoved me up against the side of the lift car and had his hands all over me. Then he pulled away slightly, moaning breathlessly. But only so he could undo his belt. _OK, game over_.

I shoved him back and as he slumped against the wall, I gave him a good hard slap across the face. His eyes widened in shock and his hand went up to his face where a reddish imprint of my hand glowed. "You little bitch..."  
"What can I say? I like it rough," I said as the lift doors finally opened. I sashayed out to the locked door of the suite and removed the key-card from my purse. Frost followed me, breathing like a bull in heat. Which he more or less was. "I should beat the shit out of you for what you did," his voice was low and dangerous. In another time and place, I might have been scared. I smirked at him over my shoulder as the door clicked open. "Plenty of time for that later, honey," I said as I entered the room. It was dimly lit from the moonlight outside. From the bathroom I could hear the faint beat of a heart. My client. Another pair of beats would belong to Avril and Brandon who were currently standing quietly in the shadows. My heightened vampire senses picked them out easily. Poor old Frosty was still under the illusion that he was going to get some rough sex. Time to disabuse him of that notion.

"OK, guys, you can come out now," I said as I flipped on the lights. Frost blinked as the light dazzled him. "What the hell is this.." he trailed off as the bathroom door opened and his wife walked in. "Hello Dominic," she said neutrally. Avril stood with Brandon; the latter holding the digital camera.

Frost turned to me, confusion giving way to rage. "What's going on here?"  
"This is what we in the industry call a 'sting.' You're nicked, mate," I replied.

"You whore!" Frost yelled at me. "You set me up!"  
The moment when the plot is revealed is always a delicate one. Some men will break down sobbing and beg their wives to take them back. In my weaker moments, I almost pity them. Some get rather irate and threaten to sue me. Or in some cases, kill me. I had a feeling that Frost was of the latter persuasion.

He stalked towards me, fists clenched. According to my client, back in the day, he had been an amateur boxer and still had a fair bit of muscle buried under the fat. I held a hand up to halt Avril and Brandon. "Might wanna pull up before I'm forced to hurt you, Dom," I said in warning. He didn't listen. Instead, he came at me and threw a punch intended to break my nose. Which it may well have done, had I still been there to take it. Instead I used a burst of speed to get behind him, grabbed him by the shoulder and dislocated his arm. He yelled again, this time in pain.

"You..."  
"Whore," I said boredly. "Yes, I know."

"Bit rich, that. Coming from you," the wife spoke up. "Just how many women have you been with?"

"Maybe if you'd put out more-" he broke off as Ms Divorcee slapped him in the face.

"Well, while this has been all very fun, I have other business to attend to. Brandon, give our client the evidence, Avril, escort him out. If he gives you any trouble, toss him out a window or something."

I turned to Daniela. "Thank you for all your help," she said as she took the small memory card containing the digital images. As Avril ushered Frost out the door, nursing his arm, Daniela said "I'll see you in court."

Back at my fifth floor office, I had a guest waiting for me. Kelvin of the Ventrue sat in one of the overstuffed couches in the reception area and stood as I walked through the door. He's kind of old school like that. "I'll be with you in a minute," I said as I entered my office. "I gotta change."  
"And deny me the pleasure of gazing upon such a perfect figure? You wound me," he said playfully. I turned and levelled a finger at him. "Don't start with me, Ventrue." I closed the office door behind me and returned to the ensuite. I still felt unclean after having Frost's hands all over me but I didn't have enough time for a shower. By now it was past two and dawn was about three hours away. I couldn't afford to waste time on myself while a girl was missing. I quickly stripped off the dress, put it back on its hanger and pulled my jeans and Darth Vader T-shirt back on. The T-shirt bore a picture of Vader and the words Who's Your Daddy? Some things never go out of style. I re-holstered the Colt and pulled on my leather jacket. The jacket was new. The one I had worn during the earlier years of my unlife had sadly disintegrated from extreme wear and tear. This one was longer and had a few extra interior pockets for carrying notebooks, pens and the like. Spare mags, too.

Feeling more comfortable, I re-entered the office and found Kelvin inspecting the decor. I could tell it didn't fit his exceedingly high standards. I shrugged. This was a guy who claimed to never lower himself to feed on anyone who hadn't been to college. As usual, Kelvin was dressed in an Armani suit and his hair was styled after the current popular fashion. I've worn my black hair the same way since I was a teenager - shoulder-length and unbound. I sat down behind my desk and checked my email. Thomas had dropped me a line to the effect that none of the other girls at the 'gentlemen's club' had any useful intel on the whereabouts of Lorelai. He had picked up a few phone numbers though. I think he put in that last bit to taunt me. Despite myself, I felt a stab of jealously. Then I dismissed it. Let him spend his disposable income on thousand dollar a night hookers. They might be able to provide him with things I wasn't capable of any longer, but I had the one thing that Thomas would abandon them for in a heartbeat. My blood.

I turned my attention to Kelvin who was seated in one of the leather seats I keep for clients. "I decided to come over in person and tell you what I found out from the gentlemen you asked me to question. Telephones are so impersonal, don't you agree?" I opened my mouth to reply when he butt back in. "Rhetorical question. Now, I am afraid I have no useful information for you. All the gentlemen in question expressed varying levels of shock and dismay upon learning of young Lorelai's disappearance. Quite genuine, too." I nodded. It was too much to hope that the solution would be so easy.

"Alright, thanks for trying anyway, Kelvin."  
"Think nothing of it," he replied. I sat back in the chair, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"You're gonna want a favour at some point, aren't you? Why don't you just hit me with it, the suspense is killing me."

"In all honesty, nothing requiring your...unique skills has come up yet," he said and smiled slightly. Unique, yeah. I stood up at the same time Kelvin did and showed him out. I glanced at the clock on the wall of the reception area. It was well past two. I told the night shift to clock off and set off home myself.


	4. Trustfund Tammy Returns

4. Trustfund Tammy Returns

My haven is a smallish, though well appointed apartment close to the Prince's tower complex. I parked the Audi in the secured garage and took the stairs to my apartment on the third floor of the unit block. Once inside, I took off my jacket and tossed it over the back of the recliner in the lounge area. I paused in the kitchen and opened the fridge. As well as the groceries purchased by Thomas for his own use, there were several blood packs. And a six pack of beer. I wrinkled my nose. Even while I was alive, I hated the taste of beer. I removed a blood pack, pierced the plastic with my fangs and drained it. Not great but better than nothing. Thomas was likely having a fun time with his new girlfriends. But he'd be there when I awoke the following night. I went next to the bathroom, stripped off and dumped my clothes in the laundry hamper. Then I stood under the shower nozzles and cranked the hot water up as high as I could stand. Spent the next twenty minutes soaping the slimy feel of Frost from my skin. The bathroom was fogged with steam as I exited the cubicle and the heat had given my skin a temporary rosy glow. I actually looked human again. I wiped the mirror clear and looked at my reflection as I combed out my hair. The tattoo I'd gotten on the tenth anniversary of my Embrace stood out from my upper right breast. Live Forever it said. Bath towel wrapped around myself, I padded barefoot to my bedroom. Dawn was drawing near and I could feel the heaviness that preceded my daily catatonia steal over me. I removed the towel and pulled the oversized T-shirt that served as a nightgown over my head. The T-shirt bore an image of Snoopy asleep on his doghouse. Then I lay on the bed with my hands crossed over my chest and let the heaviness claim me.

I awoke the following night as dusk reclaimed dominion over the city. Even before my eyes opened, I could sense Thomas' presence in the haven. And hear it. Loud rock music blared from the stereo in the living room and Thomas was belting out the lyrics without a shred of shame. The poor boy was completely tone deaf. Not that I was much better. Though I had won a prize in a karaoke contest when I was twenty-one. Which may have been due more to the revealing attire I was wearing at the time. I rolled out of bed and dressed. As I walked into the lounge area, Thomas was busily murdering the Foo Fighters' Let it Die. I picked up the remote from the coffee table and killed the stereo.

"Hey!" he said.

"Tell me about your 'dates' last night," I said and sat down. He moved to sit on my lap. I shoved him off and he thudded to the floor. "Bitch," he hissed.

"Ah, you know you love it," I smiled. Thomas sat cross legged on the floor, looking at me with his brown puppy-dog eyes. I suppressed a shudder. Ghouls. "So, last night," I prompted him.

"Well, those girls...woweee!" he cupped his hands around his chest to indicate how stacked they were.

"Uh, huh," I replied. "And while you were admiring their assets, what did you learn?"  
"Like I said in the email, they don't know much of anything. Lorelai keeps to herself mostly, they said. Doesn't even have a boyfriend that they know of." He smiled and I knew he was picturing himself as the missing girl's partner. At least that got his mind off sitting in my lap of all places.

"So, that leaves us back at square one. With zilch to go on," I said and told Thomas about the meeting with Kelvin. I turned my attention to Greenfield and Associates' daytime ops. Being out of the loop fully half the time is irritating but my day shift people, all experienced operators themselves keep me up to date on what's happening. They also take care of any cases that come up in daylight hours. "What's the word from the day shift?"

"No new cases and the day crew are on top of the current cases," he answered. Good enough.

Then the phone rang. I reached out an arm and snagged it from the coffee table. "Greenfield and Associates Private Investigators," I paused, "Morgan speaking," I'm glad I don't need to breathe anymore. Most people have to take a breath before they resume speaking.

"Yeah, Morgan, hi. It's Vince at Our Lady of Serene Waters," one of the local hospitals. I sat up straighter in my chair.

"We just admitted a young woman who fits the description from your fax last night."  
"What's happened to her?" Admitted? That was good. At least she wasn't dead.

"Severe head trauma," OK, that wasn't so good. "She was a passenger in a car that hit a power pole." Ouch.  
"She have any ID on her?"

"No but we think it's your girl," Vince continued. In the background I could hear a nurse paging Dr Parker, stat. "I gotta go," he said.

"I'll be down there in less than an hour," I said. "Be a honey and pull some strings so I can get a look at her."  
"I'll see what I can do," he said and hung up. I got up and pulled on the leather jacket. Thomas, still cross legged on the floor watched as I moved. He told me once that I moved with a dancer's grace. I moved gracefully to the door and grabbed my keys from the hook screwed into the wood. "I'm going to the hospital."

As I headed to the garage, I felt a number of presences come up behind me. I turned to see the mouthy little girl from last night and a number of big, beefy looking guys. "That's her!" the girl yelled shrilly. "She's the one who dissed me last night!" The four goons eyed me and moved hands to concealed weapons. I rolled my eyes. How this kid had found out where I lived was a question for later. For now, I had to convince them to leave before they got hurt.

"Are you _still_ sore about that? Look, I know the owners of the club so that's why they let me jump the queue," I grit my teeth before saying, "And if I did something to offend you, I apologise." _Come on, accept the apology._ She didn't. Kids these days. Is it just me or are only stupid people breeding?

"You think I'm gonna let you just walk after what you said to me?" she spat. Then she rolled out that old chestnut, "Do you _know_ who I _am?_"

"No, and I don't care," I said. I eyed the four goons standing around the girl. "Ask yourselves, Do I want to get my head kicked in just because _she_ tells me to?" Turns out they did. One of them pulled a crowbar from inside his jacket and ran at me.

I blocked the first swing with my hand and the impact rattled up my arm to my shoulder. I closed my fingers around the bar and jerked it out of his hand. He stumbled forward, unbalanced and I whipped the bar in a short, vicious arc that connected with his jawbone. He went down as though poleaxed. The other three stepped back, looking shocked. They dropped their motley collection of knives, chains and knuckledusters and ran. Smart boys. The girl yelled at them to come back. "You assholes!" she screamed. "I fucking _put out for you!"_ Ah the cheerleader and the football team. Some things never change.

I slapped the crowbar into the palm of my left hand and said, "Go home. Before you really upset me." Instead she pulled open her purse with shaking hands and yanked out a little .22 pistol. I rolled my eyes again. I've been shot in the head with fifty cal slugs and walked away. A little peashooter like that would be about as painful as a mosquito bite.

"Were you maybe dropped on your head as a child?" I asked as she aimed the gun at me. The barrel shook badly. Her finger tightened on the trigger and I used my Celerity to dash to the side as her finger squeezed down. Nothing happened. Except a metallic click. Trustfund Tammy looked down at the gun in confusion. I stepped up to her and twisted it out of her little hands. "Helps to take the safety off first," I said helpfully and flipped the switch.

_"Also_ helps to have a round in the chamber," I went on and racked the slide. Another metallic click.

I pointed the little gun at her forehead and she backed away. So, there _was_ actual intelligence in there. I was beginning to lose all hope. "Leave now and I won't put a round into your knees."

She screamed shrilly and ran, short skirt flipping up and down as she went, revealing no underwear at all. Call me old fashioned but in my day, girls would at least put on a G-string when they went out. I ejected the mag of the pistol and cleared the chamber. Dumped the lot down a storm drain nearby. A voice from below growled, "Hey! Don't throw your trash down here!"

"Sorry," I told the hidden Nosferatu. As I turned to finally get to my car, the voice said, "Nice show, you put on, Toreador." I paused. Long shot but maybe this guy knew something. "Who is that little bitch?" I asked, crouching over the storm drain. A foul smell drifted up from the depths and I could hear water running in the darkness beneath the city.

"Daughter of some big-shot attorney in town. Guy's a ghoul for some Ventrue prick." Oh. Shit.

"And here's you threatening to blow the kneecaps off the daughter of a Camarilla ghoul," the voice chuckled. "Love your style, Morgs, I really do." I got back up and went to my car. I paused to kick the still unconscious body in the ribs. Just for inconveniencing me, I decided to rob him as well. Came away with two hundred in cash and a pack of banana flavoured condoms. I put those back in his pocket.


	5. Morgan the Miracle Worker

5. Morgan the Miracle Worker

The drive to the hospital was blessedly uneventful. I parked the Audi in a well lit spot that would hopefully deter people from keying the car and walked through the main doors. I hate hospitals. The smell of antiseptic and hospital-grade cleaning products never quite cover the smell of sickness and death. Some, though, loved the place. I knew a Nosferatu who would sneak up to the part of the hospital where the coma patients are treated and drink from them. I don't imagine the quality of the blood would be any great shakes but at least he didn't have to worry about them waking up. I avoided the reception area and instead followed the signs that pointed the way to the emergency department. The I pushed the doors open and the smell of pain, fear and spilled blood made my nostrils flare. The emergency department was controlled chaos. Behind curtained off cubicles, I could hear gunshot victims moaning and heard the staff trying to stitch up a stabbing victim. I looked around and found Vince checking a patient's chart. As I walked towards him, I could swear that the various patients were envying my wholeness of body and wandering what a fit and healthy person was doing cluttering up _their_ place of sickness and pain. Could be I've spent too much time in the company of Malkavians.

Vince looked up as I approached. He looked like death warmed up. His tired eyes looked at me from baggy pouches and his green scrubs were stained with blood. "Rough night?" I asked.

"Only the usual. Shootings, knifings, gang warfare." He covered a yawn with a gloved hand. "Excuse me. You're here for the girl from the MVA? Over here," he walked towards another curtained off area. I heard a faint, though regular heartbeat. Vince parted the curtain and revealed a young woman lying on the bed. She was hooked up to a heart monitor and had a blood pressure cuff wrapped around one arm. She looked very pale. Pale as I am, actually. And for somebody still alive, that couldn't be a good thing. Her flowing red hair was partly covered by heavy bandages around her head and her face was heavily bruised. I removed the photo my client had given me from my pocket. Kinda hard to tell for sure under the wrappings but this seemed to be Lorelai.

"How badly is she hurt?" I asked quietly. I'd hate to have to inform the client that we'd found her girl but that she was going to die anyway.

"We've run an MRI and CAT scan. There doesn't seem to be any permanent brain damage but we won't know for sure until she regains consciousness," Vince informed me. Then his pager beeped and he left to take a call.

I stepped up beside the injured young woman and picked up the hand that didn't have an IV inserted into it. Gently squeezing her hand, I whispered, "Lorelai? If you can hear me, everything will be all right. You've got a lot of people worrying about you so be a good girl and get better for them, OK?"

Now, I've never believed in miracles. Or God for that matter, but what happened next is the gospel truth, alright? As I held Lorelai's hand and whispered inanely to her, her eyelids began flickering as though she were dreaming. Hell, maybe she was, what with the head injury and drugs. The eyelids parted, revealing bloodshot green eyes. The eyes stared at the ceiling for several seconds before sliding over to my side of the bed. The heart monitor began to bleep faster and I could feel her heart beat harder as she started to come around.

"What?..." she swallowed and tried again. "What happened to me?" she said in a hoarse whisper.

I kept hold of her hand with my right while I fumbled for the call button with my left. Got hold of it and pressed down the button for several seconds. I heard footsteps hurrying towards us then realised I really wasn't supposed to be here. Eeep.

"You're in the hospital, Lorelai," I said soothingly. "You had a bit of an accident." A bit. Heh, that's like saying being decapitated is a bit lethal. She gripped my hand with sudden strength and gasped, "Where's Carmen?" I raised my eyebrows questioningly. I'd kinda forgot to ask if there were any other people in the car. So I decided to lie to keep her calm. "She's fine. Everything's just fine."

At that point the curtains parted, revealing Dr Vince and a couple of nurses. One was young and pretty. The other was old and not so pretty. They were both wearing tired, harried expressions.

"What are you doing here?" The older one snapped. I deflected her attention by pointing out that her patient was awake. "She's awake," I said and nodded at Lorelai who was eyeing the hospital staff fearfully.

"You'd better step out for the time being," Vince said and placed a hand on my back, urging me away from the bed. Lorelai's fingers grasped at mine and she said, "Please don't go..." Ah geez.

"I'll be right outside, I promise I won't leave you," I said and she seemed to relax. The medical staff pulled the curtains across, cutting off our sight of each other. I left the emergency ward and once in the corridor, pulled my phone from my jacket pocket. I dialled Larissa's whorehouse. Excuse me, _Gentlemen's Club_. A young woman's voice laced with an East European accent flowed into my ear from the phone. "Forbidden Pleasures. Katya speaking." Oh my, but I bet she was a popular girl.

"Katya, hi. Morgan Greenfield, Greenfield and Associates Private Investigators."

"Oh!" Katya gasped, "You are the one looking for our dear, sweet Lorelai?"  
"Yeah, that's me," I said. "Look, I need to speak to Larissa. I've located Lorelai but she's in the hospital." Another gasp. What _was _she doing? Perfecting her fake orgasms? Ick.

"Putting you through now," Katya said, mercifully without any more orgasmic gasps. How stupid must men be to think a woman would actually react like that during sex? _Especially_ if she's being _paid_ for the sex?

After a few seconds' worth of classical on-hold musical, Larissa Sinclaire picked up. "Morgan!" she said excitedly, "You found Lori?"  
"Yes, she's at Our Lady of Serene Waters. Car crash." Silence from the other end. Then, subdued, "How badly is she hurt?"

"Head injuries. But doesn't seem to be any permanent damage. Weird thing happened. I was holding her hand, kinda telling her to wake up 'cause people were worrying for her. And she woke up."

"Morgan...it's a miracle," she said.

"Yeah, well, you should probably come down here and see her. She's a little...clingy at the moment."

"I can be there in twenty," she said. "Thank you," she said and sobbed slightly. I felt tears prick at my own eyes. Not real often a case like this turns out so nicely. Most often, a hooker goes missing, she turns up dead a month later.

As I waited for Larissa to arrive, I hovered around the emergency department, pestering the staff about Lori's condition. She was fully awake now and, get this, asking to see me. Kinda like how a goose will imprint on the first thing it sees after it hatches. I felt oddly touched and amazed that, as a vamp, I was still capable of such feelings. My soul may be damned, but right then, it felt like something beautiful.

Vince pulled some strings and I was able to sit with Lorelai while we waited for Larissa to come. I sat by Lorelai's bedside, again holding her hand and watched as she fell into a natural sleep. I smiled to myself and thought that moments like this make my whole unlife worthwhile.

The End.


End file.
